As crazy as it was, part of him wanted to believe. Time-travelling alternate history shit pandered to childhood science fiction geekery, as well as an egotistical sense of self-importance. His life was an essential cog in the wheels of the world, special enough to save.
Whether stupid fantasy or acid flashback made wrinkly flesh, there was some truth in his words. He did need to be bolder. For one brave step forward, he often teetered two steps back. Indecision, or overthinking, let opportunities slip away. So, why not take the old fart’s advice? Just as a mental exercise, let the chips fall where they may…
When he fancied a cup of tea, he ordered a coffee. When he craved coffee, he ordered a beer. Just doing things a little different was the easy start.
He bought a box of cigars and handed them out to people on the train. He wore a hat. He flashed increasingly cheekier grins – the more he did, the better he got and they started to work.
Backpacking had its own sex rhythm. Smiles and laughter beat small talk and cheesy chat-ups. This wasn’t a world of long-term relationships – it was temporary, intense, heart-felt flings. Everyone was on a clock before the next train, next city, next whatever. Germans, American, Spanish, Dutch girls just wanted to have fun. So long as they spoke English he had a chance. And everyone spoke English.
It was not so much a change, as an evolution. Fun didn’t mean discarding ingrained values – the sense of right and wrong, decency, courtesy, kindness, they made him who he was – but he could expand them with a smile and raised head, so others could see him glow. The confidence that hid behind a stoic mask came out to shine and others responded in kind.
The truth was, he was doing what he always did, just with shorter pause and no hangover of unearned guilt. Previously he’d spent too long pondering what-ifs – regurgitating didn’t change the past, only tainted the future. Living in the moment was better. Daft Punk’s ‘All Around the World’ was the anthem of the summer, echoing from every window and door in every town and country; the ubiquity of the spare beat and one note lyric brought all nations and languages together. At times he wasn’t sure which language he should attempt to speak and it really didn’t matter.
By the time he got the ferry back to L’Angleterre, he was exhausted, but damn happy.
THE ONE YOU KEPT AROUND AS A PET BECAUSE YOU FELT SORRY FOR THEM
“Do you want to get a coffee, or do we…” He made a motion with his hands. “Pass like ships in the night…”
It felt like an eternity before she answered. Why did he make that weird sine wave motion? He was dumb. She was always too good for him, he could only ever be a friend, not even one of the cool ones, but the one you kept around as a pet because you felt sorry for them.
Her smile broadened, her eyes creased, she showed the gap in her teeth. “Coffee,” she said, followed by a deep, throaty chuckle. “I’d love to get coffee with you.”
He made it back to England and it was raining. The customs had done a number on him at the checkpoint, unscrewing each hermetically-sealed cigar tube, dooming each stogie to a reduced shelf life once air began to stale them. He didn’t have any drugs, just the mulching rags of a wannabe hippie who hadn’t washed his clothes, or even himself, much for a couple of months.
Now, he stood outside the terminal, grey drizzle masking glimmers of blue sky, steeling himself before the train home.
Then he saw her; he heard her first. A deep, tobacco-stained voice yelling his name. He turned and a beat stopped his heart.
She looked even better than remembered – always the stuff of pin-up right handers, in the flesh, she was tanned, glowing and laughing. Best of all, she was pleased to see him.
“I can’t believe it’s you.” She threw her arms around him. “Didn’t you hear me calling? I’ve been chasing you from the checkout.”
“I… didn’t see you.”
“I saw you a mile away.”
She was loud, genuine and infectious. She was everything he remembered and more. He felt the squeeze of breasts against his chest and wanted to kiss her right there.
EVEN WHEN YOU’RE WRONG, SOMETIMES YOU CAN BE RIGHT
There had been no contact since college and there was a lot of making up to do. There was always a spark, but his shyness and reserve forestalled pushing for something more. They were friends, good friends, but as much as he wished more, just never took the leap, instead obsessing over the wrong people, ignorant that the right one was holding his hand. They stood blocking the exit, travellers milling around, before they noticed the tutting and moved to the side, chatting at high speed, before a pause eventually came.
She was SW-bound for Wimbledon, while he was planning his return to the N8 hovel. Should he invite her? Would she come with him? She was always a free spirit. He was already mapping a future in seconds.
He wanted to show off his flat – grotty as it was, he was still home-proud. Maybe she’d enjoy the newspaper clippings he’d wisely collaged on the walls, disembodied heads on inappropriate bodies, a satirical mural of London life papering over mildewed and peeling walls. His battered uncle’s leather armchair, the view out the back garden, the… God, what was he thinking? She could light up a room, but maybe not his…
Do something different. The old man may have been wrong about most things, but even when you’re wrong, sometimes you can be right. Go with the flow, rigid pre-planning was the surest way to prevent a fantasy becoming a reality. Go with her, don’t force her to come with you.
“Y’know, I can’t think the last time I’ve been to Wimbledon,” he said.
“It’s got a green. Maybe I’ll show you the sights…”
As they hoisted their bags and walked towards the underground, he looked back and saw the old man again in the crowd, ignored by the passing commuters. Their eyes locked.
He watched a tear roll down leathered skin, but a smile, devoid of his previous sneers, but sweet, endearing, happy, rose across his cheek. Then in a blink, he was gone.
He wasn’t even sure if he had blinked, the man just disappeared with the flow of human traffic? Or was his fantasy demon finally exorcised? Whichever way, he was gone, never to be seen again.
WOULD YOU SACRIFICE YOUR OWN LIFE… FOR THE SAKE OF ONE YOU LOVED?
“Isn’t that where you used to live?”
There was a fire reported in North London. A gas explosion took out a first floor flat in a small block – one of those freak accidents odd enough to make the local news on a slow day. No-one was harmed, the place was empty. His uncle never got replacement tenants, but also never made repairs or safety checks.
“It… could be…” he said.
“I never did get to see it,” she said.
That’s right, he thought. He was going to take her there. Thank God he didn’t. Life was so much better in Wimbledon – even if half the time he felt he was bludging off her folks, they were still making a life. Why hadn’t he taken her there? He struggled to remember.
The baby started crying and she moved away to tend to their love, before the conversation could continue. For once, he was glad she was gone.
For the first time in a couple of years he thought of the old man. He’d disappeared in a hallucinatory blink, but now he wondered if he was real and simply ceased to be.
A shiver ran up his body, arching his back in a spasm and juddering the hairs on his arms to stand up. Had the old man never intended to help him, but save someone else? Avert a tragedy by prodding a course that led two people’s paths to diverge?
If he hadn’t met her coming back, he wouldn’t be here now. If he’d followed his first instinct on that historic meeting they could be living in a flat the other side of the city. One so badly burnt nobody could have survived the inferno…
The old man, that version of the old man, ceased to exist right there in the crowd. He’d seen it, hadn’t he?
Would you sacrifice your own life, your happiness, for the sake of the one you loved? Wasn’t that true love?
The shudder passed. He could hear her voice softening to a gentle murmur as she sang to their son. He knew she was cradling him from side to side, he knew the smile on her face.
“The sun is out, the clouds are slowly going, and now my heart is growing fast…”
There was no use overthinking. Negative thoughts and worries could manifest into reality if they lingered too long. Treading our paths, we don’t change who we are, but we can change who we become. No-one knows where they’ll end up really, but sometimes they can pause, look back and see how far they’ve come.
Over the years, on those occasions when life’s flowing sine wave fell in the dip, when he wondered if he should have done things differently, the curiosity didn’t last long. The choices you make are what’s true for you at the time, that’s all anyone can do.
If there were alternate timelines, ones with different old men, they were gone. But, who was to say he wouldn’t still be in the same place, no matter the decisions?
He would never know what might have been. Who does?
SOUNDTRACK
If this story was a movie, here’s the compilation album, retrieved from the bargain bin in Woolies. Listen while reading, or float away on your own adventure…
Hove Press 